


Can't Say

by red_crate



Series: See and Touch [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Masturbation, Other, Sexual Fantasy, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: Watching Stiles pull himself apart in the Camaro and being surrounded by the heavy scent of sex had been hot enough. But hell, nothing was quite as hot as the innocent way Stiles sucked his fingers—cheeks hollowing, slurping sounds around his fingers, and the way Stiles’s eyes closed briefly like he enjoyed the taste.





	Can't Say

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the incident in the Camaro.
> 
> This won't make sense unless you've read With Eyes, And Hands To Touch

Derek slams his bedroom door shut and slumps against it—bangs his head against the wood one good, hard time before sliding to the floor. The silence in his room is comforting with no lights on and no one talking at him. He’s so sick of Rafael trying to play tug-of-war with his mom over him and Scott. They’re divorced; this shit was supposed to be settled and done with. But Rafael manages to fuck everything up, doesn’t he.

The stupid Camaro. Derek knows what that’s about. It’s about showing how well Rafael’s doing on his own. It’s about making Mom feel like shit because she can’t save up enough money to buy herself a new car, much less one for Derek. It’s about trying to blind Derek and Scott with shiny new toys so they’ll love him and appreciate him more than Mom. It’s all about power and Derek fucking hates him for it. Because a secret part of Derek really fucking loves the Camaro.

It’s beautiful and new and his. And he’s had Stiles in it already.

Derek groans lowly, screwing his eyes tight because that was such a mistake. But he was angry and he felt helpless against Rafael’s bid for attention. And Stiles is so…beautiful and new. Derek just wanted. He _wants_.

Shifting to his knees, Derek keeps his eyes closed as he rubs a hand against the growing bulge in his jeans. His mind’s eyes flips from that night that April went down on him to just a half hour ago. Stiles’ big eyes shiny in the diminished light with his pupils blown wide with lust. 

Derek thumbs the button of his jean open and slides his zipper down to relieve the pressure against his hardening cock. Stiles’s was similar in size, just a little shorter but thicker. Derek thinks about the way Stiles had been so easily talked into jerking off in front of him—barely needed any pressure like he actually wanted to do it. Like maybe he got off on the idea of doing that in front of Derek, for Derek.

Precome blossoms at Derek’s tip, wetting his boxer briefs as he teases himself with a palm. He thinks back to the way April’s mouth felt around him—his first ever blow job—how her tongue worked the underside of his cock as she sucked him down. Instead of April though, he pictures Stiles there, looking up at him with damp eyes as he tries to take Derek’s whole length in at one go, choking on it but not giving up.

“Fuck,” Derek whispers, roughly pulling out his aching cock and stroking it with a dry hand for a few beats.

With his other hand, he pushes his boxer briefs and jeans down until they rest just below his ass. He rolls his balls a little and squeezes himself at the base. Taking a breath, he manages to reach over to his bedside table and squirt some of his lotion into his palm.

The slick feeling against his skin makes things ten times better and he’s not going to last very long. He tips his head back, panting, as he strips his cock quickly, fucking his hips up into his fist. He can’t not picture the way Stiles kept licking his lips as he got himself off—probably didn’t even realize what he was doing at the time. Stiles’s fucking oral fixation. Shit, and then when he sucked his own come off his fingers. Derek tilts forward, falling until he’s holding himself up on one forearm while still fucking into his hand, groaning.

He thinks about the way Stiles’s gaze stayed riveted to him as April sucked him off, like he was taking notes or something. Stiles would probably love sucking cock. He’d be good at it and Derek would gladly fill that smartass mouth of his. Watching Stiles pull himself apart in the Camaro and being surrounded by the heavy scent of sex had been hot enough. But hell, nothing was quite as hot as the innocent way Stiles sucked his fingers—cheeks hollowing, slurping sounds around his fingers, and the way Stiles’s eyes closed briefly like he enjoyed the taste.

Derek whines, balls drawing up with the need to release. He rolls over onto his back and shoves his hips up one, twice, and he’s coming on his stomach in a hot smear across his skin and the hem of his shirt.

Gulping down oxygen, Derek throws an arm over his eyes in defeat. This whole night was a fucking mistake and he needs to lock this shit with Stiles down. He can’t do this. Stiles is Scott’s best friend. He’s barely fourteen and Derek’s known the kid since he was six.

Stiles is off limits. Tonight was a single, odd divergence and Derek’s not going to take it any further. Okay? Okay.

_Fuck_.

 


End file.
